


World of Fools

by Suggilates



Category: Dark Souls (Video Games), Dark Souls III
Genre: M/M, Oviposition, mild violence, one sided affection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 08:57:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18206333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suggilates/pseuds/Suggilates
Summary: Greirat gets saved by a peculiar onion knight.





	World of Fools

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've written in five years... Thank you to Hambone for all your inspiration, support, and editing! I owe you my life!

  Patches couldn’t help cursing to himself. Irithyll Valley was cold and miserable, what had gotten into Greirat? It was well known he fancied himself a martyr to the undead, but this was just mad. He’d really lost it this time.

 The screech of the sewer centipedes caught Patches’ ear; even in the heavy onion armor it was hard to miss Greirat’s panicked shouts- and pleading. Greirat was gasping for help, splashing masking any specific words; the long quailing moan is what kicks Patches into gear. Greirat came into view, ass high in the air and hidden partially under the upper half of a centipede, head submerged in the stinking water. Greirat’s scream abruptly cut off as the beast thrashed above him. The shield in Patches’ hand didn’t feel heavy at all, even as it was soaked and slipping in his grip. He rushes towards the centipede, bashing it up and off of poor Greirat with a sickening pop; watching in horror as something long, pale, and shining dislodges from Greirat’s backside, letting him slump fully into the water.

  Patches flies to his side to dredge Greirat from the hip high water, shield dropped with a hearty plunk, too focused on getting a firm hold on the slicked, deteriorating chain mail. The onion shaped helm doesn’t make for a great rage of vision, but the drumming and screams of every other centipede in the vicinity heading his way makes it easy to know he needs to get the hell out of there. Sparing a hand to raise his helm to scan the area, the warm light of a fire nearby reflected in the water is hopefully somewhere safe. Even if it isn’t, it was a place to go that wasn’t there. Patches raised Greirat as best he can, winding his fist in Greirat’s shroud and hauled him against his side, hand slipping as the centipedes closed in. The cacophonous splashing echoes in his helm, overlapping till Patches’ ears are ringing.

  How the knights of Catarina handle anything is an absolute mystery. Patches could hardly keep his fist wrapped around the threadbare shroud about Greirat’s shoulders. The first centipede was rearing on its back legs again, having shaken from its shield induced stupor, a rattling shriek filling the air and reverberating in Patches’ chest cavity. Greirat was unconscious, be it from fear or from injury was hard to tell, but Patches would be able to assess soon enough- the stairway to safety was close enough that they need only make a mad dash to the door to be safety. Safety which was becoming less of an option with each wicked claw from the beast digging into the stones beside them with a sickening crack, Patches simply could not move fast enough, hindered by Greirat’s limp body.

  Patches barely found his footing, the screech of claws on armor deafening in his borrowed helm, mustering just enough strength to throw Greirat clear through the doorway, hardly time to see how he landed with the dead sprint Patches set into, narrowly clearing the doorway and knocking himself to the floor as the girthy armor clipped the door frame. Turning over his shoulder and summoning all his strength, Patches drew the Zweihander above his head- a hefty weapon not meant for undead outside of Catarinan ilk- and plunged it as deep as he could into the beast’s chest, unable to block his ears from the ungodly screaming that is sure to leave a ringing in his brain.

  The beast wailed, the sword still jammed inside it, and retreated to the murky basement once more. Patches tried to ignore the tug of guilt as he caught the glint of fire reflected in the blade as the centipede crawled away from the light. Even less of a comfort was the pitiful groan barely escaping Greirat’s soaked hood, his soft moans making the thin fabric tent outward, clinging uncomfortably to his face as he breathed back in. Any immediate wounds weren’t obvious, he didn’t seem to be bleeding, but it was obvious he was in pain- of course it was difficult to tell through the slit in the onion shaped helm. Another whisper from Greirat’s lips had Patches falling to the ground, shakily making to remove his gauntlets to assess the extent of the damage.

  “ _Stupid old Rat…_ ”

  Easier to think than to feel, this little old thief saved his skin, not many people would do that for Patches. Greirat’s sweet demeanor and willingness to take a dive made it hard for him to just wave off the good turn Greirat did for him. Making sure he survived this ordeal would surely make them even. Greirat’s sudden pained wail snapped Patches right back to the moment- Greirat would have to survive first, of course.

  Through the panic a familiar scent of estus soup wafted past Patches, this old rat must have some luck after all. Patches yanked his gauntlets off; working quickly to get the gloves underneath, he needed to get his bare hands on Greirat to see how bad the damage was. Surely throwing him across the stone was not exactly helping Greirat’s condition, but it was necessary. Greirat was worryingly quiet as he was rolled onto his back, at least he was breathing… Patches pressed a hand softly onto Greirat’s side, checking for broken ribs and noting a tender spot that made the poor thing wince in pain. As Patches’ hand wandered lower to survey Greirat’s organs the old man let out a hiss through clenched teeth- that’s not good. There was something odd, a soft bump inside Greirat’s stomach. Patches pressed experimentally and Greirat’s body seized briefly, scaring Patches into pulling his hand away.

  “Sorry, sweeting.” the pet name wasn’t on purpose, but seeing his old friend in such pain made it hard for Patches to stay quiet. With the lump cataloged in his mind, definitely something to investigate, Patches went to surveying the damage again, properly noticing that Greirat’s pants were torn up the back, sitting oddly around his hips. As gentle as he could Patches pushed Greirat onto his side, revealing the entire seat of Greirat’s pants to have been torn out. That slimy appendage he had seen… The lumps in Greirat’s gut… Gods- surely not!

  Patches’ fears were confirmed seeing the sheer amount of slime clinging to Greirat’s wrinkled buttocks. He’d heard about these wretched things reproducing through vile means, but never imagined this. To take a host to lay their eggs in, these were truly something cruel. Greirat shook under Patches’ hand, stirring as he started to come to; Patches tried to urge him to sit up as gently as he could, but the old man just fell back onto his back with a muffled protest. Greirat was in really bad shape, some soup might be of some help to him, but it might send him into shock with the foreign bodies inside him.

_It’s not safe for those to stay._  Patches whispered an apology under his breath as he got up to head to the estus soup, still hot. The pleasant warmth might help bring Greirat back to his senses enough for him to help push the eggs from his body. Patches stopped himself, the thought echoing in his mind, _eggs_ … That’s what they are after all, why is it so much worse to think about?

  The ladle shook in Patches’ grip as he stirred the pot, bracing himself to turn back around to face his friend. He owed him, how can he turn his back on Greirat after all he’s done for him… The armor seems a thousand times heavier now, crushing him under its weight, encasing Patches like a coffin. The sound of Greirat’s pained moan is what shook Patches from his thoughts, finally turning over his shoulder to walk back, kneeling beside Greirat with the ladle in hand. Patches soothed his hand over Greirat’s hood, following his jaw to nudge his mouth open with his thumb, pressing into his cheek to wedge between his teeth. There’s no way that hood is coming off easily, so this will have to do. Patches gently poured the soup from the ladle over Greirat’s hood, listening for the choked gasp of Greirat trying to breathe around it. With the ladle empty, Patches cradled the back of Greirat’s head, tipping it up to encourage him to swallow. It wasn’t easy but Greirat got what he could down, warmth visibly blossoming in Greirat’s chest and echoing to his limbs.

  Greirat started with a yell as the pain in his gut kick-started his brain, sitting up and almost immediately slamming back against the cobblestone as the pain washed over him anew. Greirat’s mouth opened and closed sporadically, teeth clacking loudly as his jaw snapped shut, unable to work his way through the pain to coherency. Patches did his best to soothe, brushing a hand over Greirat’s stomach; shivering with the chill in his blood as he realized there were more than a few eggs in Greirat’s gut.

  “Try to stay still.” The words felt like they were coming from another realm, barely registering in either mind, but it’s all Patches could think to say as he set his hand to the lump with the heel of his palm, pressing in with building pressure.

  Greirat’s wails were grating, they churned in Patches’ gut as he pressed on Greirat’s distended abdomen. If they came in this way- surely he could get them back out the same way. With a firm push Patches felt the lump move under his hand. The resulting shriek had Patches yanking it right back, then back to his gut- if the eggs are that painful, they need to come out. What if they hatched? Would they chew their way out? The thought was morbid, Patches shook it from his mind, and all that matters is that he gets them out of Greirat’s body.

  The lumps prominent in Greirat’s gut were worryingly giving, squishing under the pressure Patches applied. Patches bit back the urge to talk, a nervous habit of filling the silence in a stressful situation, not that he would even know what to say. The gravity of the situation made the air thick with tension.

  Strung out on pain, Greirat could only get his fist around Patches’ wrist, trying to pull his hand away with all the strength he can muster-

  “ _Please_ -” It hurts.

  Words died on Greirat’s lips as Patches readied his grip, pressing back in. Greirat whimpers, shaking his head loosely, deliriously, all he wants is the pain to end. It’s hard to watch, but Patches knows he can’t stop. Resolve renewed, Patches pressed in again, feeling the egg under his palm start to slip, thankfully moving. A little more and he can dislodge it! Patches pats Greirat’s shoulder.

_It’ll be over soon old friend._  

  Greirat’s nails screeched harshly against the metal in his grip, voice wavering as he begged for Patches to stop, unsure of who was helping him through the blind panic.

  Greirat’s piercing shriek startled Patches from his focus, lifting his hand from where he’d been applying pressure. Greirat’s words were muffled through his wet hood and were indecipherable through the pounding if blood in Patches’ ears, only able to glean through body language and writhing that the eggs had started to move and frightened Greirat terribly. His body was starting its process to reject the eggs. The situation was upsetting, Patches sat back on his heel, drawing in a slow breath to ease his nerves; the room was damp and cold, icy air from outside battling with the small fire left to heat the estus soup. Any hint of a smell of aromatic herbs left in the kitchen were long gone with poor Greirat being soaked to the bone in sewer water. Despite the poor situation Patches pushed on, having taken a moment to prepare himself, and to let Greirat rest, it’s better to get this over with, no matter how much Greirat couldn’t stand it.

  Patches gripped the back side of his opposite hand- and slammed the heel of him palm to Greirat’s stomach.

  The icy grip of terror in Patches’ heart was instant as the egg he landed squarely on burst under his weight. If Greirat was screaming now, he didn’t know, all he could hear was ringing. The world seemed to slow, limbs heavy and dumb like moving through syrup. Patches dropped his weight on Greirat again- palm landing between two eggs and this time one actually started to move. The burst egg provided enough slick to encourage movement in the others, sliding unnaturally away from Patches’ hands. Greirat clawed at the floor, catching on cracks and breaking what little nails he had on the uneven cobblestone; the thick air made Greirat look like he was swimming, long extensions of his arms, and a slow pull back. Patches couldn’t seem to shake the idea from his head even as he descended on Greirat again.

  Greirat nearly caught Patches in the back with his knee, spasming as he drew his legs close to him in a last ditch effort to protect himself. The bulky Catarina armor made it hard for Greirat to entirely close in on himself, but his frantic flailing made it easier to see the ripped backside of his trousers. Keeping firm pressure on Greirat’s gut, he leaned back to have a look- see if he could see any signs of movement from the outside. The thin, translucent slime still clung to Greirat’s ass but there was a new color, a dark, pale blue. It dribbled from inside Greirat, leaking down between his buttocks to pool under him. Time seemed to snap back into the present when Patches saw that, the air no longer too thick to move in. Patches took full advantage, palm still between two eggs, and pushed.

  Squelching was a good sign. Patches pushed and heard it again, the sound of something being extruded. He adjusted his hand, following how the egg moved down, and pressed again, feeling it shy away from his pressure. Greirat’s chest shook and for a split second Patches thought it was a death rattle, but as his senses caught up he realized Greirat was crying.

  “ _Please, ju-just kill me, you bastard._ ” Greirat could hardly get the words out. The pain wasn’t what was unbearable, it was the humiliation. His organs were likely to have damage not only from the eggs, but also from the brutish way his savior thrust his entire body weight onto his aging form. He may be undead, but this was unbearable. Being made to wear this damned hood, being locked away to rot in a cell, barely being trusted to come here and pillage like some naughty dog off its lead… Greirat had already suffered enough, hadn’t he? To die in the sewers of Irithyll, attacked by some beast, wouldn’t have been an ideal death, but it would have meant dying a proud thief. He was dredged from the water he could have peacefully drowned in, instead now being made to birth the children of the beast who attacked him! It’s impossible to sift through his emotions and feelings, everything compounding in Greirat’s mind till he’s too overwhelmed to think.

 The sensation of an egg slipping through Greirat’s body was not easy to handle, it felt much bigger than it likely was, and slimier than anything he had ever encountered. The walls of the eggs were soft, not unusual for eggs that are laid in water; but deeply unsettling when laid in a man. Greirat hiccupped around his tears thinking about the horrible beasts roiling within him. Thankfully his attention was pulled from the feeling inside him when the knight’s hand on his gut traveled lower, sliding uncomfortably; pinching his stomach between the links of his chainmail as he pressed too hard on Greirat’s thin skin. The egg moving inside him was getting pretty close now- it felt terrible- but if he could get them out, this hell would be over.

  A shock startled Greirat, sparking from his hip and traveling down his legs. The knight above him made a small noise before moving his hand again, digging the heel of his palm against the egg, nudging it further towards Greirat’s ass. Greirat jumped in his skin as the tingling shock shot through him again settling heartily in his groin, confusing himself even more when he moaned through his sobs.

  The knight above him swallowed audibly. The seconds before he moved again dragged, Greirat began to wonder through his haze if the knight felt uncomfortable enough to leave. Evidently not as the knight moved again, more gentle than before as he pushed the egg further. The egg must have been nudging something inside him because Greirat locked up, that spark making his muscles spasm. It would be so easy to ignore the shaking if Greirat could keep his damn mouth shut, but the moans slipped between his teeth. The sparks shooting through his hips shot elsewhere as well, coiling in his stomach and warming his loins. If not for the hood Greirat was sure his savior would be able to see just how deeply flushed he was. The onion knight helping him smoothed his other hand across Greirat’s chest piece, sensations mixing strangely in Greirat’s heart.

  Patches had to shake his head to clear his head of Greirat’s moans. Oh if the circumstances were different, Patches wouldn’t mind taking his time drawing them from Greirat’s lips himself. Greirat shifted uncomfortably under his hands and Patches cleared his throat shortly. The egg was gonna start coming out soon, he needed to stay focused. There had to be at least two more inside Greirat, he didn’t have any time to lose with how slow this is going. Patches gave Greirat two short pats over his breast to signal he was going to keep pushing. Greirat wrapped one of his hands around Patches’ wrist, giving a brief squeeze. The warmth of Greirat’s hand was surprising with how soaked he was. Patches had to bite his lip to stay quiet, Greirat’s soft groans making his head spin as he got moving again.

  The work was silent, apart from the sickening pops and squelches of the eggs shifting, and awkward; Greirat could tell the knight didn’t know what to say. Really, neither did he. All he could bring himself to do was to squeeze the knight’s wrist, something to focus on. The bulge at his ass was deeply unsettling, especially when he could feel it start to peek out, breaching uncomfortably and with a slick squish of mushed egg and lubricating slime. Greirat ground his teeth, willing himself to try and push the egg from himself. The knight’s hand slipped- the sweat on his exposed stomach making his grip slippery- and his palm slid over the begrudging tent in Greirat’s trousers. The shock caused Greirat to lose his focus, egg slipping back in with a small noise. Greirat choked, caught between a shout and a moan as the egg nudged within him again. The knight beside him was taking in breath like he’d run for his life, deep, heavy breaths echoing off the spacious inside of the Catarina helm. Greirat couldn’t consider the implications of his heaving breath before the knight’s hand slipped back to his stomach, laying heavily on Greirat’s groin, following the curve of his uncomfortably hard cock. Greirat’s eyelids fluttered when the knight’s hand traced back, thumb rubbing briefly over the head of his dick.

  “ _No!_ ” it was short, and much quiet than Greirat wanted it to be- wheezed at the end of a gasp- but the knight withdrew his hand immediately.

  “I just- it might help-” The knight began but Greirat repeated himself firmly this time, digging his nails into the wrist he had in his grip. “ _No_.” Hasn’t he suffered enough? Now this pervert wanted to fondle him under the guise of trying to help him. Cold piss.

 “My apologies.” The knight’s voice rung in his helm, he sounded almost familiar, and truly sincere, but the memories wouldn’t surface under the stress. The knight settled his hand appropriately again, shifting on his legs as he started putting pressure onto Greirat’s gut again. Greirat braced himself, swallowing thickly, and gave a short nod. His knight pressed in again and sure enough the egg slid in him again, sending electric shocks down his legs as it nudged through. Thankfully the knight’s grip didn’t falter this time, and Greirat kept still as he could manage when he felt the egg start to open him back up. Greirat’s grip on the knight’s arm must have been painful, but it was like a lifeline, white knuckling as the egg seemingly got wider and wider, still such an uncomfortable fit even after the centipede’s ovipositor forced him open.

  In an instant the slimy egg clears Greirat’s hole with a pop, shortly before hitting the floor with a wet slap. Greirat sags, grip falling slack around the knight’s wrist. Greirat couldn’t tell if he was crying anymore, he was just exhausted and spent, but it wasn’t over yet.

  “Two more, friend.” Patches could barely keep up his impression, the warbling in his voice betrayed how deeply upsetting the sight was. Firelight reflected on the egg, flickering ominously. Looking at it closer, the egg was very clearly alive; dark blue like the slime from the one he crushed, he could see dot of life within it, stirring. Patches slipped his hand up slow, sussing out where the other two eggs were; cradled close to one another after his first violent shove. Patches tried first to separate them, slipping his hand between the eggs to try and get them out one at a time, but Greirat’s sobs started up again.

  “I’m going to die, aren’t I?” Greirat’s unusually pathetic tone tugged at Patches’ heart. Unable to bring himself to speak, Patches soothed his hand over Greirat’s chest, shaking his head. If he could help it Greirat would make it out of here. Patches stayed quiet, letting Greirat breathe, but his condition only seemed to worsen. Greirat was scared and rightly so. Greirat sucked a breath through his teeth, grimacing to hide the shake of his sobs. Letting Greirat lay in this sorry state wasn’t going to help him get any better. Readjusting on his knees, Patches brushed against his shed gauntlets as he tried to make himself more comfortable. Patches shifted his hand over Greirat’s stomach before digging his heel in once more, as a pair or one at a time, these eggs were coming out.

  Greirat’s view of the ceiling was hazy, he couldn’t pick out any features through the tears. What a horrible way to go… There’s no honor in becoming some broodmare for a sewer beast. Would he really die a man if he died by these creatures bursting forth from him, like some infested corpse? The thought made his eyes well up and spill over, wetting his already damp hood with his own tears. The knight beside him was massaging his gut again, rousing him from his own mind as he felt the remaining eggs shift, the sensation of ooze slipping from his body made him want to clench up. Greirat nervously ran his thumb over the lip of the armor at the knight’s wrist, searching for a feeling to draw his mind away from the ache building in his hips. The knight stilled at the brush against his inner wrist before he returned the affection in kind, lightly stroking Greirat’s chest with his thumb. There was no heat in the action, only a rare, soft act of comfort. Greirat wouldn’t forgive him for fondling him, but it seemed the knight’s heart was in the right place. The stroking at his chest was a welcome distraction when the eggs got far enough along to start nudging his prostate. Greirat tried to lose himself in the soft sensation, shaking his head and pressing his thumb against the pulse at the inside of his knight’s wrist, the erratic heartbeat fluttering against his touch.

  Greirat’s eyes rolled, loosing tears on his eyelashes down his cheeks as he struggled to keep some semblance of calm with the movement of the eggs. Hips stirring, Greirat could try all he wanted to bite back his moans, but when the eggs rested comfortably on either side- bumping and rubbing against him and one another- he saw white. Blind for an instant, his knight’s caress made Greirat’s heart swell. In the few moments it took for Greirat’s vision to filter back he was crushed under the weight of his disgust. Assaulted by a beast, made a womb of, and thrown around like rubbish, yet Greirat still took pleasure from it. How depraved could he be? Sickened by warm sensation of his orgasm crawling through him and the knight’s thumb still stroking his chest, Greirat swatted his hand away. Wanting to roll on his side, to curl into a ball and die, he was stopped by the churning his gut. The acrid taste of sewer water in his mouth was overwhelming and made the urge to vomit nearly inescapable.

  The knight couldn’t find his words, some starting, but never escaping his helm to Greirat’s ears. Gentle as ever, the knight fitted his hands back over the bump of the eggs, pressing in with slow, building pressure. Greirat still ached, he had just cum, it would be much more difficult to pass the eggs with the state he was in, but the knight pressed on, making Greirat wince with hypersensitivity. The more the eggs wigging inside him the more tears cascaded down his cheeks and into his hairline, creeping uncomfortably into his ears and down to his hood. Greirat shook his head, death was better than this.

_Just let it end!_  

  Patches wouldn’t stop, not when they were so close. He had been scared when Greirat batted his hand away, but seeing him writhe like this… Patches couldn’t let his old rat suffer like this anymore. Just a little longer. Greirat can try and protest but it will only get worse at this rate. Patches squared his shoulders.

  “Push.”

  The knight’s voice brushed against Greirat’s mind, nearly too strung out to comprehend. Hardly a fight left in him, but Greirat did what he was told, the pain of the stretch and his nerves was so overwhelming it was nearly background noise. He pushed as hard he could, eggs sluggishly being urged along through their combined efforts. Greirat’s head lolled as best it could to his shoulder, hindered by the collar on his hood and his utter exhaustion. Jaw slack, what few sounds Greirat made were unhindered, whimpering with the sensation of an over sensitized prostate being prodded. Unable even to cry anymore Greirat could only wail as that stretch came again, an egg making its way out. With Greirat’s body still experiencing echoes of his orgasm, his ass wasn’t as willing to let the egg pass. The knight raised his shoulders shortly, before dropping himself back against Greirat, egg launching excruciatingly from his body on impact. Greirat fell limp, arms slumping at his sides and legs falling open. There was one left, Greirat felt raw. Could he go hollow from hopelessness? It felt stuck inside him, even when the knight put his back into it once more it wouldn’t dislodge. Greirat didn’t register the knight leaning away, only hearing the slick sound of his finger slipping through the slime expelled from his body. Greirat definitely registered the slick finger prodding his ass. He thought himself too spent for outrage but when the knight found his way inside Greirat found the energy to yell at him,

  “What in the _blue fuck_  are you doing?”

 The knight jumped, motioning to the slicked finger and to his ass.

  “It’s stuck.” The knight said shortly before cramming his finger inside Greirat, cutting off his remark and stunning the poor old rat so bad he knocked his head against the floor. Such an invasive sensation wouldn’t be as miserable if the knight’s finger weren’t so cold, but it was hard to get a word out to complain when the knight kept wriggling inside him. One hand propped on his gut, urging the egg closer, while the finger inside him tried to get around the egg, before giving up and just holding Greirat open. The feeling of being exposed so intimately made Greirat burn with shame. With a last push Greirat cleared the last egg, shivering with the sensation of the crushed membrane making its way out as well, feeling hollow in every sense of the word.

  It was a long, quiet moment as Patches pulled away from Greirat, looking dumbly around the kitchen for a scrap of cloth or anything he could use to clean himself. The silence was saturated with misery, the bright crackle of the fire felt almost mocking. Patches spotted a rag half tucked away across the room, joints creaking as he stood to retrieve it. Shame bit at his heart too, he could still feel the hard press against his trousers. Greirat’s moans had been drawing more than a pitiful reaction out of Patches. Turning over his shoulder with the rag, Greirat lay so still Patches almost thought him dead. Kneeling took some time, and Patches hit the ground much harder than he intended to, armor heavy, and all his energy spent. Greirat hardly reacted when Patches wiped at his backside, twitching uncomfortably from the rough fabric on such a raw part of him. Patches did a piss poor job getting them both clean, but they were cleaner than before. The reality of the situation sunk in like the icy air, creeping up their backs. Greirat hiccupped, raising his arm to tuck his face into the crook of his elbow.

  If that damn hood could come off Patches would wipe the tears from Greirat’s eyes, he could see the way his shoulders quaked, hear his sniffling. He didn’t want to pity him, but after all he’d been through today, it’s hard not to. Greirat rolled onto his side, wanting to curl into himself; emptied and ashamed, he was miserable. Patches set his hand softly on Greirat’s back, gently petting him, rubbing circles over his shoulder blades and down his back. The warm sensation echoing down Greirat’s back, like warm waves lapping against him. Greirat’s mind was too clouded to articulate his appreciation and his despair, too far gone; all he could truly do was cry. The soft sniffling morphing into an open mouthed sob, shoulders heaving under Patches’ soothing, warm hands.

 “There there…” Patches’ couldn’t help but wince at the sound of his own false voice; Siegward’s strange cadence was easy enough to imitate, but it felt out of place in such a morbid atmosphere. Patches tried to keep talking, opening his mouth a few times before he could get any other words out.

 “You’ll be alright… You’re alive, aren’t you?” The kind tone made Greirat sob into his hands, leaning heartily against his knight’s knees; he wasn’t sure who the knight beside him was, but if he would continue to comfort him, Greirat wouldn’t mind.


End file.
